


I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier

by Shazrolane



Series: We'll Meet Again [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, sergeant bucky barnes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/pseuds/Shazrolane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dugan ducked down so quickly that his hat went lopsided.  He grinned at Bucky, looking for all the world as if he was having a great time. “Another day, another fight, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m used to fighting off bullies at least twice a day, this once a week thing was getting boring, you know?” Bucky bluffed back. He knelt up, took a shot, then ducked back down. He licked his lips, but his mouth was as dry as a desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier

[I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fhjT93Xa3U)

Dugan ducked down so quickly that his hat went lopsided. He grinned at Bucky, looking for all the world as if he was having a great time. “Another day, another fight, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I’m used to fighting off bullies at least twice a day, this once a week thing was getting boring, you know?” Bucky bluffed back. He knelt up, took a shot, then ducked back down. He licked his lips, but his mouth was as dry as a desert. 

 

“Right, your little friend with the big mouth?” Dugan’s hat stayed in the same place on his head as he ducked down this time. “You shoulda brought him. He could’ve been our mascot.”

 

Bucky took another shot (bolt, kneel up, trigger, duck) and tried to let the ridiculousness of the conversation distract him from the noise and the fear. “No dice. He’d flip his wig, run right through this, find the German commander and punch him out. Make the rest of us look bad.”

 

Dugan reloaded. “Thought you said he has asthma?” 

 

There was a scream right after Bucky’s next shot. At least that one had hit the target. He tried not to think about how he was happy to've shot someone. “Yeah, he does. I’d have to carry him back afterwards. It’d make him grumpy.” 

 

There was less shooting and more yelling in German now. Bucky looked at Dugan, who shrugged. “I dunno, the only German I know is _bier_.” He knelt up, took his shot, and ducked back down. “Next time you’re feeling generous, how’s about you get us a translator instead of socks?”

 

“I’ll get right on that, Dugan.” Bucky lifted up to take a quick glance. The Krauts were falling back to the stone houses of the little village just ahead of them. Bucky and Dugan made certain to encourage them in their retreat, but not too closely. A scared man fought a lot harder, and Bucky’s main priority in this entire mess was to survive it. If you let them run, mostly they didn’t come back. 

 

It took a while, but with the Germans more-or-less in retreat, Bucky and Dugan eventually managed to get his four man team to meet up with the lieutenant in charge of their platoon. It was one hell of a relief to find all three of the others alive, with the bitter edge of knowing the lieutenant would just throw them back out again. 

 

Sure enough, Bucky barely got a chance to catch his breath before he was ordered to clear a back alley. He took a few breaths, tried to find that place where his body and mind were ready for action but not so keyed up that he shot at shadows. Then he crouched down low and peered around the crumbling stones that made up the house. It seemed clear. 

 

The high, crumbling stone walls of the old houses rose on either side, boxing him in. Bucky tried to breathe as silently as he could, his ears straining to hear sounds over the fighting in the next street. The fading light fucked with your eyes sometimes, and the crooked alley left plenty of places to hide. The alley curved around a house, and Bucky grimaced. If he was going to ambush someone, that was sure as hell where he'd wait to do it.

 

Bucky grasped his rifle tightly and turned the corner. 

 

And ran smack into a German soldier, hard enough that their helmets clunked together like a cartoon. Their rifles tangled, and both of them shoved and twisted, trying to get his rifle free while keeping the other’s locked up. The world narrowed to shoving hands, metal barrels and wooden stocks swinging at faces and throats. Bucky's sweaty palms were slipping and if he let go first he'd be dead. So he pushed as hard as he could, shoving the other man back against the rough stone wall. The German finally let go, but he retaliated with a headbutt. Bucky managed to turn enough that he took the impact on his helmet instead of his face.

 

It got uglier from there. They were too close for punching, so the Kraut tried to gouge out Bucky's eyes. But Bucky had the advantage of years of back alley brawls, either finishing Steve’s fights or starting them so the punk wouldn’t have to. He stomped on the guy's foot and then grabbed his neck and slammed his head against the wall. And kept doing it, until even with the helmet the German collapsed to the alley cobblestones. And then Bucky got his hands around the guy's throat. And squeezed.

 

The German fought Bucky like he was up against Death himself, but Bucky ignored everything except putting every ounce of strength into his hands. His arms were shaking, fear and exhaustion bleeding through the anger that'd kept him going. He bared his teeth in a snarl. _Just fucking DIE already!_

 

Looked like Bucky was getting what he wanted—the soldier's struggles got weaker and weaker, until his hands thumped to the ground at his sides. His last word was, “Mama!”

 

Bucky let got like he'd grabbed something on fire. The soldier gulped in air, rolling on his side. Bucky shakily climbed to his feet, reflexively snatching up his rifle. The soldier undid the buckles holding his helmet on and threw it off to the side. For the first time Bucky saw his face.

 

_Christ,_ Bucky thought. He was just a kid. Bucky and most of the men in his company were young, but this guy looked like he was barely out of school. Bucky had tried to strangle a fucking child and the kid was still alive and what the hell did Bucky do now?

 

They both stared at each other. 

 

The word, “Scram,” was forming in Bucky's mouth when Dugan and Hayes turned the corner. Hayes immediately trained his rifle on the soldier, who threw his hands in the air. The look he shot Bucky was full of equal parts betrayal and uncertainty. 

 

“C’mon, Kraut, nap time’s over,” Dugan said as he hauled the German to his feet. “Don’t worry, Sarge, I’ll handle him.” Bucky wanted to tell Dugan to let the guy go, but he couldn’t get the words past his guilt over almost killing a kid coupled with his guilt over almost releasing an enemy soldier. 

 

And then the kid was hustled off in Dugan’s big hands and it was too late and Bucky was alone in the alley again.

 

He stood there, feeling sick to his stomach at the idea that he might have traded the life of Hayes or Mickle or Dugan for some guy who would have shot him if he’d had the chance. He had a war to fight, he shouldn't've spent precious minutes in the middle of a fight coddling some kid.

 

But fuck, it was just a _kid_. He should've been at home, stepping out with his best girl instead of getting thrown into some prison camp.

 

Bucky might've betrayed his team by not killing the kid, but he felt like he'd betrayed his own humanity by not telling him to run. 

 

Yells from a few streets over pulled him out of his daydreaming. He had a war to fight. Bucky took a deep breath, gripped his rifle, and ran out into the fray.

 

***

They got to stay under a roof that night, in one of the stone houses Bucky'd almost died to capture. They ransacked the house for food, the first they’d had since leaving England that didn’t come in cans. The kitchen yielded noodles, the garden some fresh vegetables and the cellar some onions and an actual bottle of wine. Meanwhile, the family that the house belonged to huddled in a corner of their cellar, next to the goat. 

 

One of the guys from the team they were sharing the place with pulled his knife. “We haven’t had fresh meat in a while; wouldn’t take long to turn that goat into some stew.” The little boy of the family wiggled out of his mother’s grasp and wrapped himself around the goat, crying and yelling in Italian. The mother yelled at him frantically then desperately placed herself and her baby in between the boy and the soldiers.

 

“Crazy old broad. I'm not gonna hurt ya,” the other G.I. said, taking a step forward. 

 

Bucky stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, we got meat in our rations every day. You seen any meat or cheese or anything like that around here? Leave ‘em the milk, they’ve got little kids.”

 

The guy pulled out of Bucky’s grasp and glared but he backed off. Bucky nodded at the mother, who said something and spat in his direction. He shook his head and went back upstairs. 

 

They spent the night in the family’s beds, ate their food and drank their wine, and took two of their blankets when they left in the morning. The little boy was in the garden, hugging the goat. He looked up as Bucky walked past, tear stain still evident on his face. “Grazie,” he said.

 

“Yeah, kid. You’re welcome,” Bucky mumbled past the bitter taste in his mouth. Jesus Christ, he had no idea who the hell the bullies were here anymore.

 

***

Note: This fills the “Hostages” square in my H/C Bingo card. I took ideas from several resources for this story. I couldn’t make up stories better than what really happened. To give credit where it is due, here are the links.

A 90-Year Old Veteran Recounts a Remarkable WWII Experience (this one will make you happy and put tears in your eyes at the same time)  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cxbv-xRBDkM

Joe Medicine Crow   
https://www.pbs.org/thewar/detail_5267.htm 

Peppino, Good As Bread  
http://www.amazon.com/Peppino-Good-Bread-Ann-Rubino/dp/1942247001


End file.
